Little But With Big Dreams
by fr0gb0y
Summary: a test writing thingy i wrote just to brush up on writing, since i haven't written in a while. its about an angsty tired lucio trying to write a song at 3am bc procrastination (constructive criticism welcome)


_'I'm tired.'_

that's the only thought in Lucio's aching brain at 3 AM on a Sunday. His mind has simply just blocked everything else out, the pushing urgency to close his stinging eyes taking over his thoughts. He sat at a desk in the corner of his dark, cluttered room, only illuminated by a small office lamp with harsh yellow light that stung his sleep deprived eyes. The DJ frantically wrote down lyrics and beats on a small notebook, sometimes scribbling things out with an uneasy whimper, other times just scrapping the whole page.

One may wonder why this short, bubbly, brazillian DJ who, in the public's eyes, seems to have a super healthy and positive lifestyle, is sitting at a desk restlessly scribbling away in a notebook at three in the morning. Well, simply put, the DJ has a concert in 3 weeks and has written _nothing_. Not a sloppy copy, rough draft, nothing. Of course he had more time, _months_ even, and _of course_ he _procrastinated_. He went out with friends, went shopping, played games, chilled at home, everything but write a dumb song that he really didn't even want to write. _"It'll be good for buisness!"_ Lucio could hear his accountants annoying voice ring in the back of his mind _"The more songs, the more profit."_ It made his temples throb even more than they already did. In all honesty, Lucio didn't even care about any of that buisnessy crap. He just wanted to have fun and unite people with his music, to live out his youth entertaining people like he always dreamt of doing as a child, watching the news about big music producers on the television. They always looked so happy, like they were having such a good time. Little lucio wanted that life so desperately, a career where he could bring people together for a moment in their tough, stressful lives and just have fun for a couple of hours. Thats all Lucio ever really wanted, to bring people in this big bad world together so they could help eachother out in their time of need.

 _'Little but with big dreams'_ ; That's what his _mamãe_ always described Lucio as, and in Lucio's opinion, she couldnt have been more correct. Of course, he was just a _kid_. He didn't understand anything back then, he was _stupid_ and _naive_. Real life as an adult musician meant long, painful nights of no sleep, nonstop worrying that your career could come crashing down like collapsing buildings at any time, constant overthinking about the song you're writing, things like;

' _It isn't **fucking** good enough.'_

 _'They'll **hate** it, everyone will be disappointed and my career will go **bottoms up**.'_

 _'Everything in this song is a_ ** _stupid fucking mess_** _, none of this sounds right. The people wont like this, my fans wont like this, why is this so goddamn **hard**. Why is **life** so goddamn hard?"_

Silly small things that matter so much more than you think. He wished frequently on most nights that he could be a kid again. A stupid, carefree kid. Back with his _mamãe_ , who was his _everything_ , whose smile, warm and bright like the sunshine of summer, made his life ten times better. Back at home with his friends in his small, cozy town that he knew like the back of his hand. _Before vishkar ruined everything. Before he lost his legs to the riots_ , _to the smoldering flames_

 ** _blood_**

 ** _iron taste_**

 ** _smoke_**

 ** _sirens_**

 ** _screaming, sobbing, fear, pain_**

 ** _so much pain_**

 ** _darkness_**

 _Blinding light meets with darkness in a violent clash_

 _the real world crashes into you like ocean waves with familar colors and smells and sights_

" **Agh-**!" Lucio cryed out in a hushed whisper, his eyes snapping open as he panted and gulped in air, his heart pounding a hole in his chest. Lucio squinted, trying to focus with the harsh light shining in his eyes, they soon focused and widened while frantically scanning the room without a purpose. His breathing slowed down as he realized where he was, his eyes quickly glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand behind him. It read **5:07** in bold red letters; he had fallen asleep at his desk. His breath still quivered as he stared down at his unfinished work, betraying the tears crawling up his throat. "Don't cry, _goddamnit_ , its too late for this.." He muttered, voice shaky and fatigued. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the tears gather beneath his eyes and roll down his cheeks, briskly wiping them away with his arm. Lucio stayed like that for a while, eyes squeezed shut with his head in his hands, listening to the monotone pound of his heart in his chest. **_thump, thump, thump, thump,_** it wasn't a very catchy beat, though, kinda boring.

His world was incased in darkness, random colors zapped by in different patterns and dots. Lucio focused on the colors so he didnt have to acknowledge that he hurt all over, specifically the stabbing pain in his heart. He ignored it, he _had_ to. His therapist told him to block out the bad memories and focus on something else, a cheery song or something, so the bad thoughts don't control you. He had to close out every bad memory and _focus_ on what he was doing. What was he doing? "Shit- the song.." Lucio groaned, frustrated as he realized what he was in the middle of before he dozed off. his eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light and downcasting to the unfinished work on his desk. _"i'll do it tommorrow.."_ He thought, staring at the paper with a long sigh.


End file.
